


An Unlikely Mate

by gingersparkle92



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Creature Fic, EWE, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Sexual Tension, Veela Draco Malfoy, Veela Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersparkle92/pseuds/gingersparkle92
Summary: When Hermione goes back to Hogwarts for her eighth year, she never expects to discover that she's the destined mate of her childhood worst enemy.





	An Unlikely Mate

It was raining outside of King’s Cross, a rarity for the end of summer in London. Hermione stood alone on Platform 9 3/4 and looked longingly at other students wishing their parents farewell. She had sent her parents to Australia the previous summer for their protection. After the final battle, she’d gone looking for them, but had been unable to find them. She wasn’t sure if they had simply moved or if Death Eaters had caught up to them. 

 

Looking around, she realized she wasn’t the only student unaccompanied. The few students who’d decided to come back for their seventh year all seemed to be alone. Pansy Parkinson looked almost sick as she eyed the Hogwarts Express warily. Hermione didn’t blame her. Her mother dead and her father in prison, Pansy was one of the youngest heiresses in Britain, and one of the wizarding world’s newest social pariahs. Hermione suspected that Pansy had her own, private reasons for going back to Hogwarts, which likely had little to do with academics. 

 

Of course, the same could be said for her. She had naturally already read all of the year seven texts and mastered most of the spells. She’d practiced all summer. The one thing she hadn’t been able to do was get a full night’s sleep. The nightmares had somehow only gotten worse as the months dragged on. She often woke covered in sweat and thrashing about in the sheets. Going back to Hogwarts was facing her fear. She needed to prove to herself that she could do it. It also just felt wrong to start her career without finishing Hogwarts, first. She’d loved most of her time there, and she hated the idea that one shitty day there was going to define her memories of it forever. 

 

Only a handful of students had come back for their eighth year. The sad fact was that there weren’t that many of them left. Many of those that were still around had decided to start working and supporting their families instead. Hermione could understand that. The only people she knew for sure were coming back were herself, Luna, Neville, Malfoy, Pansy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott. 

 

Professor McGonagall had arranged to open up old suites they used to use for married students for the eighth years. When Hogwarts was founded, it wasn’t unheard of for sixteen or seventeen year olds to already be married. In the past century they’d been relegated to be used mainly for visitors. McGonagall had decided, however, to allow eighth years to reside in their own private quarters. 

 

Hermione was personally grateful for that. And why shouldn’t they? They were all legally adults, and most of them had participated and lived through an actual war. She couldn’t imagine going back to her old dorm, sleeping in a single bed next to Parvati, or worse, Lavender. She’d heard that Lavender had decided to stay with family in London, but still. 

 

From the corner of her eye, Hermione caught the Slytherin prince himself staring at her. Not just staring, she decided. Gazing, almost. The heat in his gaze made desire pool in her core. Her breath hitched unexpectedly as she returned his look. 

 

She hadn't seen him since his trial earlier that summer. She and Harry had both testified on his behalf, citing the instances he and his mother had saved their lives. She'd decided it wasn't fair for Draco to go to Azkaban for what he'd been born into. She couldn't imagine growing up with Lucius Malfoy as a father. Harry had reluctantly agreed with her. Ron decidedly had not. 

 

The courts had agreed with her, and both Draco and his mother had been spared Azkaban. His father had been given what Hermione thought to be a paltry sentence of only six months, which meant he'd be getting out soon. By the end, he'd turned on the rest of the Death Eaters, only concerned about saving his son. He'd then given evidence against them all at trial. The Ministry touted him as their biggest success story, a truly reformed man. Hermione doubted the complete sincerity of that statement, but at this point she honestly didn't care anymore. The war was over, she wanted to pick up the pieces of her own life, not worry about getting vengeance on anyone. 

 

She'd shared a truly unnerving moment with Draco shortly after the trial that still left her feeling unsettled. She'd been walking down a corridor at the Ministry as he'd just been released and was walking out. His look at her had been both appreciative and sorrowful, but the look of quiet devastation was what truly surprised her. 

 

They’d met in the middle of the hallway and stood silent, both unsure of what to say. His breath had hitched suddenly as a look of surprise crossed his face. His eyes bore into hers as if he were trying to see into her very soul. They stood like that for several moments, struck motionless. It was as if they both realized they stood at the edge of a precipice, and everything after that moment would change. 

 

It ended as quickly as it had begun. Draco suddenly straightened, tore his gaze away from her, and began to walk past her. Only the briefest of nods as he retreated indicated that he’d even acknowledged her presence. 

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Draco had known the moment he met Hermione Granger’s gaze in that hallway that he was well and truly fucked. She was his mate. There was no doubt about it. Fuck. 

 

He knew the moment she stepped onto the platform. His veela instincts went into overdrive at his first whiff of her heady scent. He thought back to his actions at the Ministry over the summer. He’d stood there, like an idiot, gawking at her for well over five minutes. She probably thought he was mad, now. Not that that was any worse than the slimy git he used to be. 

 

Of all the girls in the world, fate had to pick the one he'd spent the last seven years making as miserable as possible. He could admit that he was ashamed of most of the things he'd said to her over the years. Especially about her blood status. The joke was on him, as it turned out. His parents had sat him down summer before his sixth year and explained everything to him. He was part veela. Apparently his grandfather had mated to a full blood veela, and many of the traits were passed onto him. And sometime around when he physically matured, usually in the late teens, his veela blood would start to flourish. Namely, he would be able to find his mate. 

 

He'd apparently always expressed some veela traits without realizing. Like girls falling all over him, his stamina in bed, and his sexual prowess were all because of his veela blood. He had to admit, he didn't mind those aspects. Although the girls did get a little tiring. 

 

After a while, he'd stopped caring about random girls who flung themselves at him. All he wanted was to find his mate. And he'd been assured that his mate would not be a girl likely to chase after him. His father had explained that for male veelas to mate, they had to first prove themselves to their female, or win them over in some way. That would mean that until his mating scent kicked in she would probably dislike or even hate him. It would be her natural instinct. 

 

Granger fit that profile perfectly, he had to admit. How the hell was he supposed to win over a girl like her? The girl he'd been on the opposite side of a war of. The girl he'd watched be tortured by his own aunt. He'd just stood there, too scared to move. 

 

He hated himself for so many of the things he'd said and done over the years, the least of which what he hadn't done that day in Malfoy Manor. He cursed his younger self for all the things he'd said to her. They had ultimately been due to his confusion and anger at his attraction to her, he realized then.

 

He wanted her. He knew on some level that he'd always wanted her. His mating scent would attract her to him and make her aroused, but it would only do so much. Besides, last he'd heard, she'd been glued to the hip of Weasley idiot. 

 

They'd made the front pages of every gossip column in Britain over the summer as they'd started publicly dating. A low growl escaped his throat as he thought of the Weasel’s hands on her. He'd likely already pawed her up more times than he could count. The idea of that oaf fucking his mate made his blood boil and his insides turn. 

 

She looked beautiful, he decided. He'd always been attracted to her, secretly of course. But since he'd seen her last her waist had become more defined and her breasts more full. Her cheeks were a rosy pink he always remembered them being, but her eyes were somehow more mature and wiser. 

 

It was then that he realized he'd been slack jawed staring at her like an idiot, again, for several minutes. To his horror, he saw that she'd seen him and returned his gaze. Every part of her expression screamed desire. Could it be possible that she wanted him, too?


End file.
